Why So Serious?
by Captain Meghan
Summary: Liza Jean was so in love with Heath Ledger, people found her crazy. When he dies, her life is torn to pieces. Even worse, she soon discovers her father is keeping secrets from her. Secrets involving Heath and his final masterpiece, TDK. This is her story.
1. When the World Stopped Turning

**A/N: Okay, so this is NOT completely related to the Dark Knight. Its more so about real life with a fictional twist, involving Heath Ledger's death. If your sensitive to conspiracy theories, stop now. That's all I shall say. Enjoy!**

It had been a bad day anyways. To this day, I don't know what happened to my report. A hundred excuses and a failing grade later, I just gave up trying to save myself. It seemed so stressful at the time. But I soon forgot all about grades, papers, and the teachers who don't understand. How can you concentrate when your world stops turning? I didn't want to talk to mom. I just didn't need her shit right then. So I stomped into the kitchen, grabbed the goldfish box off the counter, and started a hasty retreat to my room. Just down the hallway. I was almost there when she stepped into my line of vision.

"Go see your father" she snapped. "Something about that Ledger guy".

My heart skipped a beat at his name. Heath. Instantly a smile filled my face as I about-faced and ran into the living room. I threw myself on the couch next to my dad, excited to see what it may be. Dad was so great. He always understood my little quirks. Such as my love for Heath Ledger. Why mom never got it, I never knew.

"What is it?" I asked excitedly.

"There's something wrong." he said. Dad's face was stone cold. He pointed to the screen.

"What?"

"It just came on the news…"

"Heath? Is he okay?" Chills ran over my body. What was wrong with Heath? Dad continued to point and I finally followed his gaze. The woman talked somberly. The headline was "Heath Ledger, shocking death at 28".

"Honey…." he turned to me "He's dead".

And that, is when my world stopped.

The goldfish scattered across the floor. It was a punch to the gut. My hands trembled as I brought them to my face. I felt as though I couldn't breathe. This made so sense.

"No!" I cried. "No! Oh my god, this can't be happening!"

My whole body shook. Heath? Dead?

Dad was reaching an arm around me just as I fell into him. I gave up all control and broke into a million pieces.

"Liza, breathe, honey." he cooed, brushing back my hair.

"How could- no, no… please, no- why…" Thoughts overwhelmed me but no words would come out right. Everything was suddenly so confusing.

"I am so sorry" he said.

The sorrow was too extreme. Tears started to gush everywhere as if they could save him. All I could imagine was Heath's beautiful face. My love for him, crushed. Dead. Gone. Like someone pulled the rug from under my feet.

"My carpet!" Mom squealed, though I could barely hear her. "What is all this? It'll take weeks to get these crumbs out. Liza what is the matter?"

Was she really doing this? The most beautiful man to walk the earth had died and all she could do was bitch about her carpet. I buried my head in my dad's chest hoping it would all go away.

"Kate, Heath Ledger died" Dad explained.

The words burned. As if they were real.

"How?" she asked, almost showing interest.

"They don't know, drug overdose possibly."

"Well then," Mom said haughtily "Serves him right"

…Oh no, she didn't.

My sorrow turned to outrage and hate. She didn't know beauty. She didn't know love. She didn't know Heath. How could she judge? . Heat rose to my face as I stood up from my father's embrace. I turned towards mom and let her have it.

"How dare you!" I screamed "You have no room to judge him! At least he loved his daughter! That's a lot more than you can say for yourself!" And with that I ran to my room leaving a very pissed off, but silent, mother.

"Liza!" dad called after me. But I was gone. I slammed my door and locked it.

I fell on my bed and tears, screaming into a pillow. I was hysterical. My heart had been ripped out. I bawled and screamed until I couldn't breathe. My stomach was revolting against my body. Everything was a blur. All I could see were tears and brown hair matted in my face. I cried for over an hour there on my bed. Anger, confusion, grief, pain, sorrow, all bottled up in one being.

When I could finally breathe again I sat up and leaned against my wall. My room was basically wallpapered with Heath Ledger posters. So of course right next to my face was his. A silent tear rolled down my cheek as I looked into his eyes. He was _so_ beautiful. I turned my head slowly to face him and gently kissed his lips. Another tear. Quieter than before, I cried, still staring at the poster. I loved him more than life, and he never knew.

--

Grief is so tiring. I fell asleep before five with tears still streaming down my face. When I woke up it was dark. "12:32" glowed from across the room on my clock. I felt sick and weary. What had happened? Heath couldn't be dead. No, it was a dream.

I sat up in a panic and grabbed the remote. The TV was blinding in the dark as I flipped to the news. The headline was still there at the bottom. He was dead. Why did they have to remind me? Couldn't something else have happened? The lady talking invaded my head. Dead. He was dead. Heath had taken too many pills and died. Dead. I quick turned the channel so I didn't have to listen to it anymore.

I started sniffling some more. Oh god, not more tears.

Desperate for a distraction I got up in a daze and made my way to the television. I grabbed _A__Knight's Tale _and shoved it in the DVD player. All of his movies seemed to capture me. He made me forget the world. This time was no exception. The movie began and Heath was alive again through it. For the first time in hours I was considerably happy. Foolish people. Couldn't they see? Heath was alive. He was right here. With me.

Knock, knock, knock.

My head was pounding.

Knock, knock, knock.

Or maybe that was my door.

"Liza Jean you come out here right now and get your breakfast!" She cannot be serious.

"Your going to be late for school! I've had enough of this, young lady"

My body felt like lead. An unmovable object planted firmly on my bed. Everything ached. Pain echoed through my skull. My eyes were red and swollen from all the crying. If she was going to get me out of this bed it would take a lot more than Lucky Charms.

"LIZA!"

With some mysterious source of energy, I picked up a pillow and chucked it at the door.

"Go away!!" I bellowed and then flopped back down on the sheets.

"Liza, it is not healthy to go without dinner and breakfast."

"Let me starve" I moaned.

"And you cannot afford to miss school," she rambled on. Apparently her daughter's starvation didn't affect her the least bit. "I've seen your grades!"

"Who gives a fuck." I said into my pillow.

"Watch it!" she yelled back. Dang, she's got good hearing.

There was silence for a moment and then a sigh on the other side of the door. "Fine then. You miss today but you better be done with this by the time I get home tonight. It's not the end of the world so quit acting like it."

"To you, maybe," I mumbled. Why does she hate me so much? I stuck my arm out from under the covers to flip her off. Of course she never saw it, but it sure felt good.

Once the wicked witch had left I reluctantly pulled each limb, one by one, out of bed and stood. My room turned around me as pain circulated my body. My stomach churned. I steadied myself until it stopped, then stumbled to the bathroom.

Returning to my room I couldn't think of anything to do but escape the pain. Therefore, Casanova was next. Heath was so hot in this. I'll admit it, I loved pretending it was me he was kissing.

I wasn't cold, but I wrapped myself up in my blankets and watched it all as if I had never seen it. That's what I did all day. Eight hours straight of Heath Ledger movies. He entertained me from start to finish. I cried during the credits for each one until they were through and I could manage to put the next one in. Character after character, I saw all sides of him.

Dad came home for lunch. He was so nice. He was a lawyer for all the big businesses in Hollywood, so him coming at all was a big deal.

"Liza, its Dad" he knocked.

I wanted to be nice. I appreciated his sympathy. But he was interrupting Heath's serenade in 10 Things I Hate About You. I paused it.

"What?" "You okay?" he inquired. "Just peachy". Gotta love sarcasm.

"Can I come in?" he asked as kindly as possible. I didn't want to see him. Or anyone for that matter. If I had my way I would have rotted there in my room. But he cared.

"Only if you tell mom I died" I groaned.

"I can't promise that" he replied.

"Than stay outside."

There was silence while he struggled for words. "Liza, listen, I know this is hard for you…" Why did he have to bring it up? Why couldn't he leave me to my movie? He was making the tears come back. "But you have to come out sometime. Will you at least eat some dinner tonight with us?"

I wiped my eyes. "I can't promise that." I said quietly.

He almost laughed. "Will you please try? For me?"

God, he was so desperate. After a pause I finally responded. "Fine. I'll try" …if it will make you go away.

"Thank you."

He might have said something after that. But I didn't hear it. I pressed play before he was done. Heath was a great singer.

I went to dinner. I don't know why. I was probably delusional.

Dad must have told mom to shut up. Cause when she saw how ragged I was she gave me the most disgusting look, but thank the lord, no bitching. Both of my parents were still in work clothes so we made an odd scene. If you didn't know the situation you'd think they were a nice couple doing charity for some homeless girl.

Mom filled my plate until it was impossible to fit anything else on it then sat it before me. I sat with my arms crossed and stared at it. I had been without food for 24 hours, but it just didn't look appetizing. Dad dug in. So did mom, talking in between bites. I zoned out.

Did Heath know what he was doing? Did he feel pain? My mind floated around his final minutes, imagining him popping pill after pill than falling asleep. I tried to tell him to stop, but he didn't hear me. I tried to wake him up. I shook him and shook him. Didn't he know I loved him? That I needed him? Why won't he wake up! Heath! Heath!

"Liza!"

…Oh, that's right. Dinner.

"Honey are you okay?" Dad had his hand on my shoulder. I must have been really out of it. They looked frightfully concerned.

"You need to eat." mom said sternly. Things were getting fuzzy. I wanted out of there.

"No I don't feel good. I think I'll go to sleep." I got up to leave but dad grabbed my wrist.

"Liza." He meant business. Wow. "You need to eat."

I studied both of my parents' faces. Their seriousness scared me. I slowly sat down in my seat again and looked at the food. . I did need to eat, but I didn't want to. I wanted to die.

I picked up my fork and played with my mashed potatoes. Mom and Dad were already almost done. How much time had past? Maybe I should eat. I was losing it. The mashed potatoes were cold, but I gave them a shot. I took a bite and swallowed hard. My stomach quenched and I finally felt the emptiness. Soon I was shoveling the mashed potatoes in bite after bite until I felt sick. It was a bit too much, but finally things started to be more clear.

I didn't eat anything else. I started back to my room for the night. Apparently I'd have to face school tomorrow. But that wasn't happening without another movie first.


	2. Sympathy

It was a beautiful day that next day. I didn't understand how, but the sky was clear and the sun warmed my face against my will. The world may have had a pretty day in store, but I on the other hand, had my own plans.

I sat in the passenger seat silently waiting for mom to get in the car. My long silky brown hair had been combed over to shade half of my face. Eyeliner darkened my eyes and I had painted my nails black. I wore a black hoodie far too large for me, jean shorts, and a baseball cap. But none of it could change the fact that I was going to school.

Mom got in the car and stopped to take a look at me.

"Oh god," she spat. "You look like a hoodlum."

My eyes stayed nailed on the dashboard as I chose not to acknowledge her presence. She sighed at what a disgrace her daughter was and started to drive. Mom wasn't ever open minded. If she had her way, I would wear dresses and sunhats everyday like my older sister, Vanessa. We could easily afford whatever clothes I wanted, but I was more of a Pacific Sun girl. So even when I wasn't in a state of grief she disapproved of my attire.

I was honestly hoping for a quick and easy trip at the time. Why did I not know better?

"Now, Liza, remember you were sick yesterday. No more talk of this Ledger guy," she lectured.

Heath. His name was Heath Ledger. Could she not get that right? I kept staring straight ahead. "You've had your day to be dramatic. Now its time to focus on more important things. Like your grades," she continued.

_Dramatic? _Did she really think Heath was just some mindless teenage crush? Was she that oblivious?

There was a pause as if she were waiting for me to respond. It wasn't going to happen. But I almost wish I had. She just couldn't stop herself.

"This pretty boy's death may benefit you more than you know, Liza Jean. With him gone now you no longer have him to distract you from school. If only you hadn't wasted your time on frivolous movies and merchandise before, you may have made the honor roll."

Her words were like a knife in my gut. The silence was then so much colder. Tears streamed down my face. My lips trembled.

"I never understood why you liked him so much anyways" she added as an afterthought, too caught up in her own thoughts to acknowledge my pain. We were pulling up to the school already, though it seemed like it took forever to get there. I let out a sniffle and mom finally noticed my crying.

There are times when people just don't get your message unless you over-exaggerate or emphasize the emotion. This was not one of those times. All I could think to say back to something so harsh, was the raw, untouched truth.

The car came to a stop and I turned and looked mom in the eyes. I stared so hard, praying her flesh would burn.

"I loved him," I said as strong as possible through my shaking voice. Her face was no longer so full of hatred but hardly sympathetic. More silence filled the distance between us. There was nothing more to be said. I grabbed my back pack and slammed the door, hoping it would separate us forever.

--

High school had never felt so intimidating. We were over half way through my freshman year, but the institution before me had never brought such foreboding to me until that morning. People were buzzing everywhere. Talking. Laughing. Gossiping. They were going on with every day life and I envied them so much for it. If only my life was how it was, when I was one of them. Talking. Laughing. Gossiping. I took it all for granted. Now here I was. Silent. Scared. Broken.

I looked down as I began to cross the yard so no one would talk to me. I just needed to get to homeroom, find my homework, get something to distract me from socializing. I didn't want to admit how heartbroken I was or talk about Heath at all. All the girls saw him as a hunk and I was sure they'd have something to say about his death. Anger grew in my chest just at the thought of it. Pretty girls pretending to be sad. But they had no clue. None of them.

I finally made it to the front steps and was walking up towards the door. As I leaned out to grab the handle it came towards me and I stopped in my tracks. Looking up my eyes met the most precious face of my best friend Shannon.

Behind her square glasses, her big brown eyes were almost teary and she bit her lip. Then without thinking we both dropped our bags hugged the other with a death grip. Neither of us knew what to say, but that is what made it so perfect. No words would have made sense right then. It was just so nice to feel the love of someone I trusted, someone who I knew cared. Finally we let go and I wiped my eyes.

"I am so sorry." Shannon said quietly.

I nodded and bit my lip. No crying.

"It's so good to see you" I replied.

Shannon was never a Heath Ledger fan. She thought of him as shallow, and untalented. She preferred intellectuals, I guess. I of course disagreed. But Shannon knew me and she felt my pain like no one else. It was so good to see her. Finally someone who understood.

We walked in silence through the busy hallways. As I was thrown into the familiar environment I started to realize how much I didn't want to be there. I barely got through school before. Heath was my escape, and now I couldn't even day dream about him. At least not without tearing up. This would be impossible.

It was good to see friends at some points. Getting a billon hugs and just appreciating their smiling faces. But at the same time it was torture. I didn't want to talk about Heath. They knew more than I did about his death and I wanted to keep it that way. Too many questions were racking my brain. Questions I didn't want the answer to.

The academics of school were sorely looked over. It was just a social snake pit for me with the constant reminder that Heath was dead. It was weakening. But by fifth period I had mastered silent tears and so thank god, not many people noticed.

Shannon was as respectable as any information addict could have been. She knew just when to be silent. But she needed to know answers.

"Was it just overdose of one drug or mixing of others?" she asked after fifteen minutes of a silent lunch. I could almost tell she was thinking about it. It's like she had to ask. I understood, but I still wish she hadn't.

I sighed and stared deeply at my ham sandwich.

"I honestly don't know. I've been avoiding every tabloid and news channel like the plague."

She nodded and took a bite of her sandwich. We were surrounded by plenty of other people we were friends with. But thankfully they knew enough to understand I needed some space.

Shannon bit her lip and thought hard. She was thinking of something again.

"Did he- well, I mean-" she struggled for words. "Was it suicide?" she finally spat out.

Just the word gave me a nauseous feeling. Suicide. How could a man so loved want to end his life? He was happy. No, suicide was impossible.

"No," I said defensively. A bit more defensively than I had meant it to be.

"Oh…" she replied "Well, how do you know?" She always looked for a source.

"I just know. It couldn't have been. It can't. Not Heath."

Shannon knew not to push it. I wiped my eyes and tried to concentrate on my sandwich. I had stared at it very intently all lunch but it wasn't going away very fast. It was a much longer day than I had anticipated.

That night I sat at my computer listening to the surfer's channel in the background, my homework sitting comfortably undone on my floor. I changed my name on myspace to "LizaJean3RIP Heath!". I'm not afraid to admit I'm not creative. Never have been. The message just needed to get across.

"Dinner!" mom bellowed. I groaned and rolled my eyes. I had been making a point of not talking to her. And now Vanessa was home from college for the weekend. She was my mother's minion. So as you can imagine, we didn't get along well.

The whole thing was inevitable so I thought I should just get it over with. I logged off of myspace, turned off the television, kicked the books in my way, and kissed the picture of Heath above my computer on my way out.

I trudged down our hallway. Family pictures of all of us smiling hung along the way. You can't beat cliché happiness. Vanessa and mom's voices were growing as I trudged. I was passing dad's office when I heard his name.

"Heath Ledger? Please, Mike."

I stopped dead. My heart jumped, like it always did, at his name.

"No kidding" Dad seemed impressed or surprised. I'm not sure which. I took a step closer to his slightly ajar door.

"Really? Well I think that matters not, now that he's dead." Dead. It still made me feel weak. And matter not, maybe, but I could hear dad writing down what the other voice was saying in the phone. I swallowed hard and inched closer.

"Liza! Jeff!" Mom yelled. I paid no attention to her, but jumped back instinctively when I heard dad set the pen down quick.

"Listen, Mike, I'll give you a call back later, okay?" the other person mumbled something. I couldn't move. I had to listen. Why would dad be talking to a guy from work about Heath?

"Yeah I'll consider it. It's just, my daughter…" he trailed off. My heart pounded. What was going on? Me too?

"Yes I know. I wouldn't do that, Mike. Alright, I'll talk with you later. Thanks for the call. Yep. Bye." he hung up and I quickly ran into the kitchen, completely bewildered. Heath. Just thinking of him made my eyes swell up. But I was getting better at holding it back. The bigger problem right now was, why would dad care about Heath?

"Liza!" Vanessa called. "Where have you been little sister?" She smiled brightly in my direction and held out her arms for a hug. She wore a pastel top with a short swishy white skirt. Her hair was sun kissed with a gentle curl. She was perfect. It made me want to puke.

I rolled my eyes and didn't answer, stomping past her hopeful hug. I didn't look at mom. I didn't look at Vanessa. I just took my seat.

"Alrighty then." she groaned as she turned to go back to setting the table.

Dad sat down next to me and I looked him over as if he wasn't my dad anymore. He knew something about Heath and he wasn't telling me. The curiosity made my skin crawl. I was still speculating him when he decided to make small talk.

"How was your day Liza?" he asked kindly.

"Hell" I spat back.


	3. Much Colder Arena

I didn't really eat anything at dinner. Just played with the food. I hadn't eaten any of my lunch either. Food just wasn't desirable anymore. So why did I feel like I weighed a thousand pounds Friday morning? I have no clue.

My head hadn't stopped hurting since I first heard the news. But I wasn't about to take medication. Every time an advertisement for drugs came on and they read the side effects at the end, I got chills and left the room. Why couldn't he have read the side effects??

This was too much to think about at 6 a.m. I tipped my body over and laid on my back staring at the ceiling. All I could think was, is this pain ever going to go away?

I had zoned out all day during school the day before and probably would today. Not just during class, but in conversations too. Too much fluttered my mind. Too many questions. Too much pain. Was I crazy to be so ripped apart over a man I never met? Was I so insane for making him such a big part of my life? Well that didn't matter now. I had. And he was gone, taking that part of my life along with him.

I rubbed my eyes and yawned. It took almost a half of an hour for me to get out of bed and stumble into the shower. I turned it on high and let the hot water melt my body.

Was it really my fault that I got this far in? Are there rules on who you love and how you love them? Perhaps I could have just passed him off as another Hollywood hottie and gone on with my life. But I couldn't. There was more to him. A charisma that just drove me wild. He became so much more than just a celebrity. He was my hero.

I stepped out of the steaming shower and wrapped up in a towel. Looking at myself in the mirror I noticed my collar bones protruding more than they had before. I was losing weight faster than I'd thought. I didn't want to lose weight. Surfing and swimming had given me an athletic build anyways so I didn't need to. But I couldn't help it. The starvation seemed to distract me.

I shook the water out of my hair and got back to thinking. Always thinking. He was my hero and he was gone. Who would I look to now? No one could make me smile like him. Call me crazy, but without Heath, my life was a much colder and lonely arena.

"So how long is this going to go on?"

Lucifer French leaned up against the locker next to mine. All I could see of him was his fluffy unbrushed brown hair at the top and his red converse at the bottom. I rummaged through all the crap that had built up over time in my locker. Magazine cut outs, last month's homework, broken pencils, notes, gum wrappers. You name it. Finally I grabbed a wrinkled piece of paper which proved to be my algebra notes. I slammed the door and turned my attention to him. He seemed very relaxed, folding some sort of origami. He was so random.

"You are so random," I said aloud and started to walk. He jumped up and followed.

"Your not you" he complained. Frenchie was probably my closest guy friend., though it wasn't something I bragged about. He was like a ball of energy, like his molecules could never rest. He saw no consequences, no future, no past. And unlike Shannon, he was no Einstein.

"What are you talking about?" I sighed. My mind was elsewhere. Like, why my algebra notes could be found anywhere but my Algebra notebook. And if I was going to get to class on time. Or if Heath enjoyed school.

"The eyeliner? The dark clothes? Please, don't leave me for the underworld!" he begged. He acted as if this were all some big joke and it drove me bonkers.

I rolled my eyes and sped up. My heart raced as if there were a big clock counting down my final seconds before the bell. The door grew nearer.

"Grow up, Frenchie." I said. I knew he wouldn't take a thing I said seriously so I might as well tell him how I felt.

I turned on my heel and entered the class room, Frenchie stopping dead behind me just outside of the door. He looked in at me.

"Jeez."

The bell rang as I took my seat and his brain finally kicked in as I watched him take off out of sight. The last thing I needed was someone to make Heath's death a no-big-deal situation.

I sat on my bed listening closely for my dad to go to his office. Him and mom were talking. I leaned over my bed to hear better when my pocket vibrated.

"So are you going to the beach any time soon?" Shannon had texted. I sat back on my pillow to reply. "No my dad doesn't want to go if its not hot" I typed and put the phone back in my pocket.

We had a cozy beach house on the pacific. During the summer we were there almost every weekend. I loved it. It was like heaven. I could surf for hours there. I could surf all year round too, but Dad got a chill every time it went below 70 and January was just that.

I sat there with my English book propped open on my stomach, pretending to read when my pocket vibrated again.

"Oh ( k". I snapped my phone shut and shoved it back in my pocket with no intent on replying. I hated useless texting.

Suddenly dad's office door closed and I threw my book down at the end of the bed. Getting up, I walked down the hallway until my nose met his door, and knocked.

"Come in" he replied. I opened the door to dad sitting at his desk reading over some paper. Books filled all the walls around his quaint room. He tipped down his glasses to look at me. "What's up?" he asked.

I meandered my way across the wooden floors and took a seat on his leather chair across from him.

"New case?" I inquired.

"Yes, actually…" he replied, a tad surprised.

"What is it?" I tried to ask casually. He stared at me uncertainly and shifted his papers.

"A company is suing for destroyed products-"

"What company?" I cut him off. Destroyed products. What did that have to do with Heath?

"A movie company. Why?" Dad narrowed his brow.

"What movie?" I was starting to get anxious. A movie made more sense, of course.

"Liza, what is this about?" he stopped the interrogation, taking off his glasses and looking me dead in the eye. Yet he remained calm. Dad seemed to always keep his cool. However, my heart was racing uncontrollably. Questions, more questions. I sighed and rubbed my eyes.

"Yesterday I was walking to dinner and I heard you talking about Heath Ledger," I admitted.

God, what was he keeping from me? Dad set his glasses down and stood up. There was a long silence as my eyes followed his every move. He reached behind his computer monitor and grabbed a file.

"Keith Fletcher" he spoke sternly. "Keith Fletcher is being sued for destruction of company products."

He opened up the file and pulled out a court report with that name at the top.

My heart beat faster. No, I thought. No, he said Heath Ledger, I know it.

Setting the file down again, Dad walked around the desk gracefully and stood before me.

"Honey, I'm worried about you," he addressed.

I shook my head and looked down. He said Heath Ledger. I'm not crazy. _He said it._

Dad crouched down and put his hand on my shoulder. He looked for eye contact that I was not willing to give as tears ran down my face. It was so confusing.

"When was the last time you ate, Liza?" he asked.

Hot panic hit my stomach with the accusation. I felt like a five year old with my hand in mom's jewelry box. I wiped the tears as more came down and shook my head again. I couldn't speak but I wanted off the topic.

"Liza look at me," he demanded.

I just couldn't do it.

"Look at me!" he ordered.

My eyes forced themselves on his face. My hands and lips shook.

"Your going to leave my office and go to the kitchen and eat. When your done there, your going to bed. This isn't healthy. Hurting yourself will not bring him back," he spoke firmly.

The words stung. Every time someone mentioned him being gone, it stung. Like if they didn't say it then it might not be true. I let out a sob and sniffed.

"Do you understand me, Liza?" he asked.

I nodded my head and left the room. He followed me out too make sure I headed in the right direction. The stone on the kitchen floor cooled my feet as I walked across it, tears still streaming. Nothing made sense anymore.

Opening up the fridge I grabbed an apple an sat at the table. Dad glanced in and smiled as I forced myself to take a bite. It seemed so hard to chew but I finally got it down. My stomach awoke with anger finally realizing how neglected it had been. Bite by bite, I ate the whole thing until I knew Dad had gone back to whatever work he did in there.

I stomped by his office and into my room, slamming the door. I leaned back on it and slid down, sitting on the floor with my knees to my chest. Tears came without control now. The embarrassment still heating my face. I had an apple in my stomach now but nothing could fill in the aching gap that had inhabited my being. Something had been taken from me and an apple wasn't about to replace it.

My mind was flooded with feeling and grief and questions with a shortage on answers. It didn't make sense.

I was not crazy.

My hands still shaking I dug in my pocket and opened my phone. Texting Shannon I asked, "Can you sue someone who is dead?"

I was not crazy.

He said Heath Ledger.


	4. Why So Serious?

**Ummmm any comments, questions, otherwise?**

I logged onto Myspace that afternoon with nothing else to do. I only had an essay, research project, vocabulary, and an algebra test to study for. So like I said, nothing else to do.

"Hey!" Vanessa said peaking her head around the side of my door, "Wanna come shopping?"

No.

"I'm busy" I lied

"No your not" she smiled and walked in. "Come on. Mom's paying."

God, she was so giddy. And oblivious.

"Do you really think I'm going to go shopping with the Wicked Witch of the West? I'd rather be in medieval torture."

I turned back to my computer pretending something interesting was happening online. Vanessa sighed and stood there for a moment. Then after a moment she finally decided to take action. Quietly she shut the door and turned to me.

"Listen," she began "I know it seems like mom is always a bitch to you"

She had gotten my attention. The words seemed like they should not come from her sweet lips.

"But she has her reasons. You might not know them now, but she has them," she explained.

I rolled my eyes. How could she have reasons? Well she hated me. I guess that was reason enough.

"Whatever your holding against mom, please don't against me. I love you, Liza. I just want to spend some time with you. Please don't punish me for what she is doing."

Her face was desperate. I didn't know how to react. All my life Vanessa had been the chosen one. She could never go wrong. If she loved Heath Ledger, he'd be a saint. And until now, she had never mentioned it. How could I not still feel that burning resentment that has grown for the past 15 years of my life? Yet at the same time, here she was, trying to help. Trying to end it.

I gave a very weak smile.

"Maybe later, then. I just… really need some time right now" I said.

Vanessa nodded and smiled.

"Thanks, sis" she replied and silently slipped out the door.

I sat there a bit awestruck for a moment. Its almost like, she understood.

Back to my computer I could see Frenchie's "Online Now!" glowing. I hit reload on the page and sure enough he had already sent me a message. I clicked on it and it read: "Whyyy so SERIOUS?"

This kid never made any sense.

"What? I'm not…" I typed back.

Just then I heard the front door close taking mom and Vanessa's voices away. Casually, I got up and walked down the hallway and into the living room. Looking out the window I watched our blue SUV pull down the street.

Making sure they were a safe distance away, I ran down the hallway screeching to a stop outside of my father's office. I turned the knob slowly.

Unlocked! Score.

Dad had gone to work that day, even though it was a Saturday. He said it wasn't something he liked to do, but that was hard to believe, given the many times he had done it.

I strolled in taking a good look at everything. All of his papers that had covered the desk the night before had been removed. The first place I went was around his desk to look behind his computer monitor to where the folder was last night. I tried to recollect what had been there exactly. A large folder. Plenty of papers. And a rectangular box. Like that of a video case.

And yet, before me was a cleared area with one forgotten sheet of paper.

He had taken it all with him.

Without bothering to flip over the useless paper I began trying to open filing cabinets behind his desk. However, it was in vain for they were locked. I searched all over his desk, only finding a couple bills and a coffee container.

Whatever he had taken, he didn't want me to find.

Very depressed after a useless investigation I began to leave. I was pulling the door behind me and flicking the light off when I remembered the lonely paper.

I trudged back over and flipped it over. It was the Keith Fletcher report that he had shown me. I perused it more carefully now trying to get any information I could haggle. It was jibberish to me. Until I found the company's name. "Rory's First Kiss" it read.

Still reading it, I walked slowly out of the room.

Rory's First Kiss.

I laughed a little. What a name for a movie!

Just to be safe I decided that I would research a little on Rory's First Kiss. Whoever Keith Fletcher was, I understood why he'd break the equipment. I would too if I was in a movie with such a name.

Sitting back on my computer I could see a new message from Frenchie. He had written "Please don't tell me you haven't seen The Dark Knight trailer yet! Here. It should interest you of all people." And he posted a link.

I had never heard of it. Why Frenchie insisted on sharing his randomness, I never knew.

So I went to google and typed in "Rory's First Kiss"

I filtered through the obvious junky sites until I found a result that said "Code Name: Rory's First Kiss"

This seemed like a winner.

It was a comic book update site. The whole thing was laughable. First the name, now this? Was that really the title of a comic book? I wasn't too familiar with the comic book world, but something just didn't seem right.

I skimmed through the article carelessly until a name stood out.

"…actually is The Dark Knight, by Christopher…"

I stopped scrolling and stared at it. The Dark Knight.

Coincidence?

In a panic I flipped back to my myspace inbox and reread Frenchie's message. Yes, he had said The Dark Knight. Perhaps it should interest me of all people.

Cautiously, I clicked on the link he sent me and I was brought to Youtube and the video loaded.

I couldn't seem to move. This was all too ironic.

Dark music warmed up as the logos flashed across the screen. A very strange voice did talked as several images were shown. An apartment? Okay. A man in a suit..

Oh, Batman.

So this was the next batman movie. Rory's First Kiss? No, The Dark Knight. I think…

"Your just a freak" the voice over continued. "Like me"

Then in the middle of a very black street a strange man stood, indicating he was the one speaking. It cut then to burning joker cards and the voice let out a cackling laugh.

The Joker, I comprehended.

Police, guns, action. A different man, more distinguished, started talking.

"Nothing" he said exasperated. He continued to talk as the camera panned up the body of the sitting Joker. As they showed his hands they were pressed together, twitching. Suddenly everything in me started to panic.

I knew those hands.

Just then the creepy voice spoke again.

"Good evening, Commissioner."

Could it be?

Then they showed a close up of the Joker's face. The owner of the voice. The owner of the hands. He had messy clown make up on and greasy green hair.

But that was Heath.

"Why so serious?" he said demonically, now with a knife to a man's mouth. It gave me chills, the depth of it.

Then there was nothing but action. Guns, running, yelling, things blowing up, smashing, knives, and very serious tones.

The heroine punched the Joker in the gut.

"A little fight in you." He licked his lips "I like that."

It was followed with more action and pounding music that matched my heart.

"It's all part of the plan" he voiced over.

Then they showed the charging Batman driving like mad and the deranged Joker, twitching as he yelled "Hit me!"

Darkness.

He smiled.

"Let's put a smile on that face!"

More darkness. And then the haunting words "The Dark Knight" grew on the screen with music accompanying it. Heroic, but sinister music.

The video stopped but I couldn't move. Chills covered my body. My breath was heavy and my heart was about to come out of my chest. That couldn't be him.

I sat there for almost a minute straight in sheer silence, trying to take it all in. I had heard he had another movie yet to be released, but this was just over the top. It was beyond anything he had ever done. There was no Heath on my computer screen. There was a psychopath using Heath's body. And wearing makeup! Yet, it was terrifying.

I slid back in my chair realizing I had been on the very edge of my seat. The images still flowed through my mind. The twitching. The licking. The laugh. All of it haunted me. Was it possible to be too in character?

Just like that, more ideas and questions racked my brain. Scarier ones then before. I couldn't stop it. It was too much, too fast on top of the load I had to think about since Heath's death. I was so very afraid and very alone.

I couldn't comprehend it all. So I decided to watch the trailer once more through. It gave me the chills once again. Probably more then the first time. An eerie feeling over came me as my mind brought the conclusion that something very serious had gone wrong.

"Kieth Fletcher my ass" I said aloud for no one to hear. And with that I ripped the phony court report in half.

--

All I could think about, was the Joker. I watched the trailer a total of 15 times. I never replied to Frenchie and I stayed alone in my room that night. My phone rang twice and buzzed three times with texts, but I never touched it. I watched Candy and the Brokeback Mountain. They comforted me a little, but brought more questions. These performances were two of his best and yet they still failed in comparison to the Joker. I could tell that just from the two minutes I saw.

The next day I slept in, pretended to eat breakfast, and was set on spending the whole day just as I had before. I had just put The Brother's Grimm in my DVD player when Vanessa poked her head in.

"Hey" she smiled.

I just looked at her and gave her a fake smile to acknowledge her.

"What are you up to?" she asked.

I pointed to the screen as the main menu popped up. She opened the door a little more and took a step in.

"Heath?" she asked.

I nodded.

There was a bit of an awkward silence as I hit play with the remote from my bed.

"I've never seen this one" she said looking at the screen "Could I watch it with you?"

No. No you can't. Go away.

But in her disgustingly perfect face, all I could see was honest hope and love. It broke my heart.

Without saying a word I cleared a spot for her on my bed next to me. I wasn't sure why I was doing it, and something in me was screaming "STOP!". However, Vanessa's beaming grin as she sat down was rewarding enough.

I'm not too artistic. Therefore, I really don't see it my place to judge acting in any way. However, when I watched Heath perform, I disappeared into the movie. No other actors did that for me. So in my opinion, he was the greatest. I was so very deep in the movie when Vanessa interrupted.

"You know," she said, breaking me from my world. My head shot at her instinctively and she gave a knowing smile. "Heath Ledger does not know what he missed."

Missed what? I squinted a little, showing I didn't understand.

"You love him as if he were the last man on earth," she observed "And if all of his fans are as head over heels as you are, little sister, then he was one lucky guy."

I blushed a little and almost smiled. I hadn't said a word to her, and she knew more than mom did. It warmed my heart how she talked about him. How she pinned my feelings in a way I never could. Perhaps it was I who had missed out something for so many years.

--

Vanessa went back to college that afternoon. The week to follow that Sunday was to be a very long and dark one.

If I thought I couldn't concentrate before, I was sorely mistaken. There were times when I was so out of it I forgot what period it was. I would replay The Dark Knight trailer over in my head remembering Heath's movement. He was there in the Joker but I couldn't find out how. I was obsessed.

On top of Heath's unnerving performance was the problem of the mysterious court case. Dad had lied to me about all of it. What was he hiding? What had Heath done? I wanted to just forget about it and go one with life, but it kept coming up. The more my questions grew the more secluded they made me.

Unhappy about being there and unafraid to show it, I'd somberly trudge through the hallways choosing not to acknowledge anyone or show any sign that I may care about anything. For in truth, at that point, I didn't.

Monday went by like a haze. There was only the mere annoyances of everyday life which were blissfully tuned out by my daydreaming. Frenchie pestered me about not replying Saturday. I told him I forgot. Thankfully he was in the grade above me and our time together at school was limited.

Dad had been working very late nights, but Tuesday he decided to come home for dinner. I was forced again to eat that night. Not fun.

By Wednesday Shannon was mad at me. Our lunches had been silent. My lunch had gone uneaten. She lectured me on anorexia with all of her knowledge and I sat through it. I refused to get coffee with her after school and lied about my grades so she wouldn't worry about me. However she learned better the next day.

Thursday my English teacher held me after class. Unfortunately Shannon's class was right next to mine that period, and she knew to wait for me. And what was even more unfortunate was that she waited outside and heard everything. Eager to get out of there in a hurry, I opened the door to a very unhappy friend. Shannon was probably one of the last people I wanted to see at that moment, because I knew she had every right to be angry.

"What was that?" she asked, fuming.

"Nothing," I mumbled and tried to walk past her.

"Nothing? She said you were failing. Do you know what's going to happen when your mom finds out?" she yelled, walking with me.

I shrugged.

She stepped in my path to confront me.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked. "You can't just brush aside your life because Heath Ledger died."

Normally that would have hurt coming from her. But it had been days since I last cried.

"Why try, Shannon? What's it all for? To impress my mom?" I shouted. She just didn't understand. "God, I am past that. Nothing I do will make her happy and I've accepted it. Beyond that, there's no reason to give a fuck."

She didn't say anything.

"You," I continued, "you don't have to try! Well good for you. You can have a life, a future, and happy parents who are proud of you. But for some of us, we don't get that life. So why pretend we can change it?"

There was a silence between us and Shannon stood still, unable to look at me.

She was hurt. But I was numb to emotions like sympathy. I walked past her leaving her alone in the hallway. To this day, it is one of my biggest regrets.


	5. Truth

Both Frenchie and Shannon took an arm and led me onto one of the docks all the way out to the end, me squirming the whole way. They sat me down at the end so my feet dangled off the edge, waves splashing beneath.

"Shannon!" I yelled at her, knowing she was the brains of the operation. She was the brains of everything.

Frenchie usually gave me a ride home after school since he could drive. Friday he told me he was giving Shannon one too. I glared at her and gave her the cold shoulder as she took my normal seat in the front. All I could think, wass that she was doing it to make me mad. But then Frenchie didn't turn onto my street and kept driving. Against my will, the two of them had brought me to my beach house about a half of an hour out, me screaming at them every minute of it since I first realized what they were doing.

"Listen, Liza" she ordered "I can't sit by and watch this much longer. Your in pain. I know it. But you've shut me out. Frenchie too."

I glared at her hard. She was wrong. I never resented her so much in all of our friendship.

Shannon held me down while Frenchie stood back. Pacing across the wooden dock.

The afternoon sun shined bright across the beautiful ocean. Under any other circumstances I would be overjoyed at the sight. But now I was just angry.

"We're stopping this tonight. Hold this." she shoved an orange Californian flower in my hand. It had about five big orange petals with a hint of yellow at the center.

I had no clue what she was doing. But it was pointless. She didn't know what she was talking about. She didn't know what I was going through.

"What the hell?" I snapped.

"Hold it!" she commanded.

Taking her hands off of me she sat down next to me and took a deep breath. She was stressed. But for the wrong reasons.

"Pick one of the petals" she said

"Why are you-"

"Pick it! And hold it."

I did as she said and picked one of the long petals. She thought _I _was crazy.

"Now," she breathed "Answer this question: What did you like most about Heath physically?"

I fought hard to ignore the feelings that the question stirred. The wind whipped off of the sea and through my hair. I wasn't exactly cold, but chills came over my body.

"Don't try to-"

"Answer it!" she yelled "Why can't you ever listen to me?"

My brain sent signals to fight it, to not feel. If I didn't think about it, I could pretend those feelings didn't exist. But her words wouldn't leave my head. It was random, but I couldn't help thinking over it. Suddenly, I was alone. My stomach did turns. Heath came to my mind. Everything about him came rushing back to me and filled me with butterflies. After a bit, I almost smiled.

"Oh god" I said under my breath "Everything"

"Just pick one," Shannon said

My mind perused his image from feet to hair. Everything gave me a thrill, but I kept going back to his face. I blushed.

"His cheek bones" I swooned, pulling my flowing hair out of my face. "How he grinned"

"Good," Shannon smiled, a bit relieved. "Now throw that petal."

I did as she said and the butterflies slowly faded as the petal was bashed around in the air.

"Pick another one" she instructed "And tell me your favorite thing about his personality."

"Shannon-" I objected

"Do it," she spoke sternly.

I looked down at the petal, twirling it in my hands. The resistance to her was slowly dying down. I searched through my memory. All of the Heath moments. All the butterflies. All the excitement. The rush. How he moved. How he talked. How he laughed.

"I love…" I began "how much he loved life." Saying it made me ache, remembering how happy he was. How fearless he was to discover new things. It was like ice starting to melt, revealing the raw grass. I didn't want to be uncovered. The tears came back then, for the first time in a week.

"Throw it" Shannon said kindly.

I did so and wiped my cheeks. The pain was coming back again. I had avoided it for so long and now it was here in full force. Heath was never coming back. I picked the next petal and waited for Shannon to speak.

"Describe what happened when you found out.

The memory shot me. The confusion and pain filled my chest as if I were reliving it. My hand holding the petal began to shake.

"Mom told me dad had to tell me something about Heath Ledger. I thought maybe one of his movies was on," I sniffled and wiped my eyes again in vain. "But I was wrong. God, I was so wrong. I cried. I screamed. Dad held me but even he couldn't make it go away."

"Make what go away?" Shannon inquired.

"The pain," I spoke. I sighed, remembering being in Dad's arms. Mom was screaming during it. "And all mom could care about was…was her fucking carpet!" I shouted. Her words echoed in my head. Each one was like a needle in my back. Her hatred for me burned as if it were the first time I realized how much it hurt. "My life fell to pieces… and all she could do was bitch about how I had ruined her _fucking_ carpet" I cried.

I looked at the petal with hatred. Like it was at fault for the ruined relationship between my mom and I. Like it caused her to hurt me so harshly.

With that I threw the petal as hard as I could. An unnatural silence filled the dock. Shannon was quiet, but her breathing had sped up. Frenchie had stopped pacing.

"Liza, I didn't- I am so sorry." she stuttered.

"Next question", I demanded. I didn't want to go on. I had thrown the petal.

Shannon cleared her throat and tried to compose herself.

"Yes, next question. If you could ask Heath anything, what would you ask?"

The words racked my brain before I could formulate them. Anything. All I really wanted was him back in my life. I didn't need to know anything. That was the biggest difference between Shannon and I. I didn't want the truth.

"I'd ask him for a hug" I whispered, imagining just that. His arms around me would be heaven. I yearned for it.

"A hug?" Frenchie let out

"Frenchie-" Shannon scolded. But this was a subject I did enjoy.

"Yes a hug," I sniffed back some more tears. "To feel his beating heart. To know what he smells like. To get the illusion that he cares about me. There is nothing I wouldn't give just to hug him."

Again, quietness fell on my friends as if they felt my need for Heath. It was beautiful. Finally.

Shannon cleared her throat and I realized I still had the petal in my hand. It felt so nice. This one was the so hard to let go of. Yet I did, and it took off from my hand without a moment's hesitation.

"Lastly," she began and I stared down at the final remaining petal "What is one thing you would tell him, if you had the chance?"

The question was thrilling for there was so much I wanted to tell. My imagination flew like the wind to a dream where I sat next to him peacefully. He wanted to hear me. He cared. But time was running out and I could feel it. What would I say?

"I would say… that I love him so very much. And that his life, has truly impacted mine."

Every ounce of me meant those words. I never felt so strongly about something before. I choked on my tears as they joined the rest covering my face. Oh god, if only he knew. If only he really was here. I longed so much for him to hear, but he was gone. Leaving me alone back on the edge of a dock with waves beneath my feet and a ripped apart flower in my hand.

I held out my arm over the water and opened it, letting the petal be taken away like the rest. All that was left was the stem and some pollen. My hands were still shaking as I clasped them close around it.

"Liza" Shannon cooed "I want you to let go of the stem now."

I glanced down at it. It was of no importance. There was no question.

"Why?" I asked.

There was a pause.

"Because it's time to let go." she replied.

Then I realized what it was all for. And just how hard it would be to get rid of this useless plant. It represented so much more. It was all that I had clung onto. It was Heath.

The shaking built up from my hands to my arms and all over my body as I sobbed over the little weed in my hand. Death had taken over as I entered into reality. I was too scared to let go. I didn't look at Frenchie but he was still because I couldn't hear him. I never would have imagined he could stay stationary and quiet. And Shannon by my side looked at me with worried eyes, her fizzy golden hair flying in her face. Time paused for a moment there on the beach. A moment of distress in paradise.

"Just let go" Shannon tried again.

My voice was as unsteady as my hands were. I couldn't think of how to talk, like I had forgotten. No words seem to come out right. Slowly I tried to force it out.

"I… I can't do it." I whispered.

Not sure what to do, Shannon gently leaned over and put her hands on each of mine. Looking up at me so close I noticed a lonely tear on her cheek.

"You have to" she replied.

Then with that, she pried my hands away and a gust of wind hit us, taking the flower from me. It twisted and turned higher and higher until I couldn't see it anymore.

It was gone.

Heath was gone.

I fell into Shannon's arms, sobbing. She held me tight as her shoulder served as a sponge for my tears. And as my tears disappeared on her, so did my pain.

Frenchie stood back behind us not knowing what to do.

"I'm sorry" I sobbed in her shoulder amongst tears. "I was such a bitch"

"It's okay" Shannon replied.

"No its not," I said pulling out from the hug and wiping my eyes. "I treated you like my mom treats me. And here you are, taking care of me."

"It's my job" she smiled with pride.

I wiped my tears some more and sniffed a little, then smiled too.

There was silence as I thought for a moment, staring at the waves.

"Shannon?" I asked.

"Hmmm?"

"Where the hell did you get the idea for this?"


	6. Life Goes On

No matter how hard we grind our breaks against time, life goes on. It's a hard concept to grasp when all you want to do is make it stop. But I did grasp it that next day when I realized all I had been avoiding. It had done me no good. The waves still crashed, the world still turned, and my history project was still due that Monday.

I was immediately grounded upon returning home Friday night for "pulling a stunt like that". Being homebound with no cell phone gave me a chance to really get a good look at my life since Heath had died. It was the first time I was thinking clearly for over a week and a half.

Something inside of me had been restored that night. I finally realized that I wanted to live and that Heath would want me to live too, as much as it hurt to admit that. So with teary eyes that morning, I woke up and gave my love a kiss, then went to eat breakfast.

I was scooping in the last bites of my cheerios when mom came out to the kitchen in her robe to get coffee. She took a second glance at me eating and smiled. It was as if she was relieved. It angered me to think that she cared and couldn't find the decency to show it before. I scowled for a moment but chose to ignore her, throwing my bowl in the sink with a clatter. Mom stopped pouring her coffee and hung her head as I stormed out, though it was selectively removed from my memory at that moment.

The first thing on my mind was my 100 point Civil War project that I hadn't even begun. Shannon swore up and down that it was easy, but I guess that happens when you actually know the information. I didn't even know we were on the Civil War already.

I had to relearn everything that I had missed since Heath had died. Just the thought of it all was overwhelming and something inside of me was screaming to not try. But life was a series of homework assignments and I knew it was inevitable if I wanted to pass. So I sat down in my room and immersed myself fully in Civil War trivia. Not my definition of a good time.

The information swarmed my brain as I took notes trying to organize my thoughts. I actually studied for three hours straight. Reasons for separation, battles, generals, Abraham Lincoln, the Emancipation Proclamation, and everything else were being put into words on paper that I could understand. Then at last, I started to work on the project itself.

I had a huge poster board laid out on my bed as I jotted down the information for North verses the South. Facts occupied my thoughts until my head hurt. I colored in the title with bright pink sharpie and then stood back to look at my masterpiece. It was all done very fast, and you could see that in my sloppy writing. But it was done.

Just then as the Civil War started to clear and my mind was back, a very strong and swift feeling overcame me. It was so grave and full of anguish, that I started to sob right there. In all of my panic to learn and get the project done, I had forgotten that Heath was dead.

--

Our house was silent and dismal all weekend. I stayed in my room trying to concentrate on homework, but eventually giving in to whatever Heath Ledger movie was calling my name. I ignored both parents all weekend for obvious reasons. I was still mad at my father, but I tried to push the topic from my mind. I didn't want to think about that case, why dad lied to me, or The Dark Knight in general. To be honest, it scared me.

That Monday I felt like I was walking into school for the first time. Before it was just an annoyance. It still was, but now it was something that I could no longer hide from. I got eighty out of one hundred on my project. When I told Shannon of this great success I could tell there was effort in her smile. For me, it was a grand accomplishment. For Shannon, a grade like that would mean failure.

I went through school that day more confident than ever before. I was determined to make things easier for myself. Though I won't elude you to thinking it was back to normal in any way. I don't think it ever would be normal.

I was no longer in a state of "Fuck the world", but still shaken. Heath was still always in my thoughts. If I let my mind travel it would find itself at Heath's feet and I'd get chills and an almost sick feeling. I just tried to make my constant grief over his death a reminder of why I had to try to live.

The next day I went to get smoothies with Shannon and our friend Jessi after school. Jessi was an artsy girl who was so sweet you couldn't help but love her. I did, but I hated admitting it for that very reason.

My camouflage messenger bag hit the back of my hip as we walked down the street. It felt so good to be laughing and talking with friends. The two of them were so nice. I have no clue how I got along with them.

"Can you believe she wore the same pants as me?" Jessi said in disbelief. Her jeans had been custom cut so that one leg was shorts and the other pants. I always admired her for that, cause I never would have the guts to dress that way. But apparently, Marie James did.

"That was very shallow" Shannon observed "Maybe you should sell your ideas and make some profit off of unoriginal girls like her."

"You could too." I added in.

Jessi giggled.

"Perhaps. I just hope people don't think they were her idea." Jessi said forlorn.

The true tragedy was that if people did start thinking that, Jessi wouldn't do anything about it. The way she dressed was a huge statement, but the only one she would make.

"They know it was your thing, Jess" I assured her. "Marie's a bitch and they know it."

"Well I wouldn't say that…" Jessi said, a bit shy to my wording.

"I would" Shannon concurred. "Don't let her get to you."

We turned the corner to cross the street just then as the light turned. There was a line of cars stopped at the cross walk waiting for a green light. I just happened to glance at the driver of one as we walked by, when my heart about flew out of my chest.

That hair was Heath's. His face looked similar as well. Could that be him? What was he doing here of all places? He was dialing like mad on his phone paying no attention to me, but I stared at him ferociously. It was Heath!!

"Liza!" Shannon screamed from the sidewalk on the other side. Everything clicked in then as I realized my surroundings. I was standing in the middle of the intersection and just then the man look up at me and honked his horn. Finally getting a good look at his face, I realized it was not Heath. Heath was dead.

I ran to other side and the cars passed unhappily. Hot embarrassment and utter disappointment swelled in my chest. A tear streaked my face as I met up with Shannon and Jessi. It had seemed so real.

"Waffles or pancakes?"

"Definitely waffles" I replied and sucked down a mocha freezer while flipping through a magazine.

I closed the magazine and started browsing sunglasses along the wall while Frenchie followed mindlessly. He had been my ride to the mall after school that day.

"A Knight's Tale or 10 Things I Hate About You?" I asked, trying on a pair and looking in the mirror.

"I've never seen 10 Things I Hate About You" he replied looking around, suddenly uncomfortable, like he was hoping ninja's would crash through the ceiling.

I paid it no attention, but dramatically whipped off the sunglasses and narrowed my eyes at him.

"Blasphemy."

Frenchie just laughed and I smiled too as I went back to the sunglasses.

"So what are you here for anyways?" Frenchie asked casually. He kept changing his stance. Hands in pockets. Scratching his head. Pacing. He could never stand still. He was so goofy.

I put on a pair of aviator glasses.

"School supplies" I replied, studying my reflection.

"Oh, of course" he laughed.

I kept them on, tag and all, and walked over to the lip gloss section, opening up the magazine again on the way.

"Are you ever embarrassed to be with me?" I asked without looking up. His questions were nonsense, but I was really curious about this.

He looked around at his surroundings. There was makeup, princess crowns, boas, "I love Jack" necklaces, Hannah Montana everything, and a very intimidating girl going for her 13th piercing. We were in Claire's and he was the only guy in the store. He had every right to be embarrassed. But he just shrugged.

"I don't get embarrassed"

I looked up from the magazine and took a long sip while I stared at him, judging his expression. He meant it.

"Ya know," I began, letting go of the straw "That doesn't surprise me."

He grinned.

I grabbed a bottle of black nail polish and walked around to the counter and put it with my magazine and glasses by the cash register. Front up, Heath's face took up the whole cover of People Magazine.

"Well now I know why that magazine was so interesting" Frenchie sighed and looked out the doors with no purpose. Like he was again looking for something that wasn't there. Like… 'where are my ninja reinforcements?'

I smiled down at the magazine.

"What would you expect?"

The lady at who rang me up had to be forty years old but wore purple glitter fake hair clips and gnawed hard on what looked to be a full pack of gum.

"Ya like Heath Ledger?" she spat in between chomps as she scanned the magazine.

When people mentioned his name to me I still got that flush of butterflies. Though now it also carried ache. Like butterflies whose wings had been painted black. Despite my pain, I smiled and began to answer my favorite question, but was unfortunately cut off by the questioner.

"I heard he was a big time druggy, ya know? Real bad. That's what killed him, I hear."

My beaming face fell as she scanned my nail polish. The black wings had smited the butterfly. There was only pain now. It really was disgusting to hear her. Even Frenchie was awestruck.

"Shame though. That man had a body. Ooo," she smiled devilishly thinking about it.

Chomp. Chomp.

The gum was mashed around in her mouth. She scanned my glasses. I almost puked.

"Ah well. I guess something is gonna kill ya eventually. Might as well be havin some fun, ya know?"

Chomp. Chomp.

"Ya total comes to 15 even, sweetie."

The anger swelled in my body. This ignorant aging hick had hit so many pressure points that I didn't even know where to begin. I slowly turned to look at Frenchie who's expression was a mix of being surprised and amused. He too could not believe what he was hearing.

I outright scoffed at the woman and turned around brushing past Frenchie and out of the store.

"Miss?" she called out after me.

Without turning around I gracefully raised my left hand in the air to display my solo middle finger.

--

I leaned on the side of Frenchie's car and he soon met me. The cool breeze hit my wet, red cheeks as I waited. He unlocked the doors and we both got in. There was a cold silence in the car accept for my sniffling. I guess that was on the of those moments where Frenchie didn't know what to say.

After a pause his mind clicked in and he reached down by his feet and handed me the Claire's bag.

"For you, your majesty" he said as he tipped his plaid hat to me as I took the plastic in my fingers.

His kindness softened my pain as I eyed my gifts.

"Can I pay you back?" I said digging into my pockets.

"No, hold it." he commanded as he turned on the car "I want to have something to hold against you."

I smiled at him. Of course.

There was silence as we pulled out of the mall parking lot and on to the palm tree-lined highway. My hands were still on the bag. Frenchie did the most thoughtful things in the most lighthearted way.

"Do you have any homework tonight?" I asked, it being Wednesday and all.

There was pure amusement at the question.

"Like I know!" he laughed.

I laughed a little with him. I should have known.

"Do you want to come over for dinner?" I invited "Maybe you can tame Hell's fiery gates."

I was really hoping he would. Dad would most likely still be at work, and dinners were so uncomfortable when it was just mom and I. Plus, Frenchie just seemed to make everything a joke. That was needed at my house. Though, I couldn't blame him for not wanting to. I wouldn't.

He gave a painful expression to the offer while still concentrating on the road.

"Sounds adventurous and all, but your mom really scares me," he winced.

"Join the club" I said rolling my eyes. She always scared away my friends. It was so embarrassing. My glance fell towards the window for no reason, and it was awkwardly quiet for a moment. I wasn't really looking at anything.

Finally Frenchie's voice cut the air and broke the feeling.

"Well I'd have to cancel that dinner with J-Lo" he sighed.

A sense of relief came over me as Frenchie grinned at me.

"Good! This will be so much fun." I chattered, imagining how enjoyable my night would be now that it wouldn't be quality time with the witch. "Don't let my mom's comments offend you though. You can yell at her if you like. But her cooking is really good. Oh! And we can watch 10 Things I Hate About You afterwards! I think you'll like it a lot. Heath is so hot. Like seriously. Hot enough to turn a straight man gay." I chuckled a little at my joke. However, then I noticed that Frenchie didn't join in laughing. My laughter only met silence. Very uncomfortable silence that made me worry.

He bit his lip and tapped the wheel with his fingers.

"Can we not watch 10 Things I Hate About You?" he asked at last.

I didn't quite understand then, but his intentions soon came into the clear.

"Why not?" I said trying to remain upbeat like he always did. I just figured it was no big deal, because that's what Frenchie always was.

"Because I know how hot you think Heath Ledger is." he said angrily "That's great, but I don't want to hear it anymore." His tone caught me by surprise. It scared me how perturbed he was by this. Where did Frenchie go? He was still his innocent self, but he spoke clearly irate.

"Since when did this offend you so much?" I inquired, now a little upset as the tension grew between us.

"Since that's all you talk about!" he shouted.

All of our happy plans for that night burned in our heated words. I regretted getting so upset, but there was definitely a problem here.

"I thought you understood…" "Of course I understand, Liza" he shouted, exasperated. "It just bothers me!"

"Why?" I yelled.

"Because I can't compare!" he fired back.

His words echoed with my silence. Frenchie's cheeks turned red and his claim to lack of embarrassment came back to haunt him.

My eyes stayed locked on him, trying to comprehend, but he wouldn't look at me. I tried every possibility to what the words could mean until I reluctantly agreed to the truth. Suddenly all of his awkward ninja moments became more clear and I understood why he was so angry. I had found an answer, but it brought on so many more questions.

The silence dragged on as I thought it over and we came upon my street.

"Frenchie," I tried to think of what to say "… I'm sorry, I-"

"Don't." He cut me short as we pulled in front of my house. "I'll see you tomorrow," he spoke with an unnatural sense of melancholy.

He wouldn't look at me. I stared at him with expectant, confused eyes for a moment but they met no response.

Grabbing my stuff, I got out of the car, slamming the door on my way out. I dragged my feet and my backpack along the sidewalk as I trudged the walk of death. Things just didn't compute. Frenchie… was Frenchie, and this wasn't possible. And yet it was because it just happened. At the time, I really wished he would have just not said anything. It made everything so much more complicated.

I continued my pitiful walk past mom in the kitchen who rambled on about god knows what and down the hallway, into my room. I dropped my body on my bed and sobbed face first in the pillow. I tried to smother my head in it to get rid of the sting, but it didn't work.

Lifting my red face for air, I looked at the smiling Heath picture above my bed post.

"Why?" I asked him in distress.

He kept smiling.

Of course.

Angrily, I banged my head on the pillow, cursing "Fuck, fuck, fuck" in between hits.


	7. Hell

**A/N: Let me get this out there: Everything in this is purely fictional. Heath Ledger of course existed and truly died. The Dark Knight is not mine, Rory's First Kiss is not mine, and none of his movies are either. But the other characters and the story told are all developed by yours truly. I did not mean to use this in any way to taint Heath's name. Again, the story is _fictional._**

I replayed the moment over in my mind at dinner to make sure that what I thought happened, actually had. It gave me a sick, anxious feeling every time. I pushed my mind to its limit trying to imagine Frenchie as more than just… Frenchie. Doing so, I regretted it. It was a scary territory with things I wasn't so sure of. So I put it aside and focused on my pork chops.

Dad actually came home for dinner that night. He said there had been a disagreement at the office and he felt better working at home. I didn't know exactly if that meant he'd be home every night or what. But he was then.

I was the last to finish eating. Mom took my plate from me and began washing it. Dad was sitting down in the living room to read. I was heading to my room for possibly 10 Things I Hate About You. I was walking up the hallway deep in thought when dad stopped me.

"Oh Liza," dad called out. So close, and yet… "Since you'll be walking by there, could you please get my reading glasses off my desk?" he asked

It really frustrated me. Why was he was so lazy? Youth really was a bother in moments like that.

"Can't you get it?" I complained.

"Liza, your right next to my door." he said calmly, but firmly.

I knew arguing wouldn't help any with him. So I threw my arms down and stormed into his room to get the glasses, showing my displeasure with obeying.

My bare feet hit smooth on his wooden floor. It always felt so cool in that room. But I was too heated and in a hurry to take notice to this simple delight. Looking back now, it seems that I forgot so many of those extraordinary little things.

It didn't take me long to find the spectacles. They were laid carefully under the dim light on his desk, on top of some papers, the only light that was on in the room. Papers covered his desk. I guess he really was working at home.

Gently grasping the thin metal in my hands, I was on my way out when I shot a quick glance back. As if on my way in I had forgotten to look at the room. It was fate that caused that glance, I later thought. Cruel, grave, inevitable fate.

Next to his computer monitor there was none other than a small rectangular box. Like that of a video case.

My heart jumped into my throat and stopped there. Chills hit me and I stared at the simple case for a moment. There was something significant in it. It seemed to radiate that message. It was calling me, drawing me closer with curiosity. Then suddenly I snapped back into reality and left the room. With much on my mind I gave father his glasses and went to my room as originally planned. It kept calling. But I would have to wait to answer.

At midnight my parents had been in bed for an hour. Dad took forever reading. My eyes stung red with tears as I opened my door. Over what? I do not know. Over a hurt best friend that I could not help? Over my still deceased love that caused hurt in said friend? Over my fears and feelings I could not explain? So much was at hand.

As I stepped into the hallway in all quietness, my stomach turned with anxiousness. The tape brought a sense of foreboding and yet I was being pulled to it.

I slid my fingers on the smooth knob of dad's office door and turned. Gently, I pushed and the door opened slowly. I slipped in without a sound, then tip toed around his desk. I tried to keep all quietness, but I could have sworn my heart's pounding would have woken my parents up with a startle.

There it laid by his computer. I hadn't imagined it after all. Now I just have to find what it was.

My room didn't have a VCR, so my options were the living room or right there in the office. I chose the office, it being more secluded. As I picked up the tape I grabbed a handful of the papers underneath it and brought them along, reading with curiosity across the room to the television.

The papers had Heath's name on each somewhere and just scanning and finding that made my heart pound with even more intensity. It was really happening. All I had feared was true.

Dad was suing Heath Ledger.

There was a paper with charges that ranked large numbers. At least I thought they were large. Perhaps in the film industry that's what it cost to buy your coffee. I wouldn't know.

I slipped the tape in and it clicked, ready to play. My forefinger was quick to hit the button, but every move seemed antagonizing.

Static came on and then a very dark room was shown. It was through a film grain and a timer and numbers filled the border. It was a foggy view but I could tell what was going on.

People were wondering on the screen, people with headsets and a job to do were more in focus. Mechanical equipment could be seen in the background.

"That's a wrap" I heard one say.

They walked around and soon started talking a bit more casually. Their day was finishing up. Then I noticed one very oddly dressed man in between it all, as he paced back and forth. He rolled his shoulders. He tilted his head like he was stretching. He murmured something that I could not hear.

One of the passerby's stopped to talk to him. The odd man mumbled a little more, uncertainly. But the passerby I could hear.

"What's up Heath?" he asked concerned.

Oh my god. I gasped out loud. Heath. He didn't just say that. He didn't.

It was the Joker. Everything started to register against my will, as I then noticed a tint of green to the man's hair. He was showing his side, so his makeup was not quite visible. But now that I knew, I could tell it was there.

"We need to keep going." Heath said loud enough now. His voice was distressed and it gave me such a grave sense of fear. And yet, I still found his voice beautiful. My heart went out to him. My love.

The other man seemed a tad annoyed, but tried to understand.

"We can't. You've been here for 12 hours. It's one of your longest days!"

"I know," he said quieter as he shook his head, like a school boy who had been scolded every day for not doing his homework "I know," he repeated "But I need to, I mean.. Can we please?"

He tapped his foot and fidgeted with his hands. His voice sounded desperate. Something was not right. He wasn't okay.

"Listen," the man said as he put his arm on Heath's shoulder. "Go home," he said kindly "Get some rest. You need it"

At the unintentional remark, Heath's face squinted in pain.

"I can't!" Heath cried, louder than the people talking around him. A few stopped and stared.

The agony in his voice took the breath out of my lungs. My heart fell on the floor and tears streamed down my face. Heath, my love. He was here on the screen. This was real and terrifying.

It got quieter on the set.

"I can't" he repeated. "I can't, I just- Can we please do that scene again?" he pleaded, backing up from the man's outstretched arm. Heath's face was filled with anguish and fear. So much it was disturbing.

The man then started to worry more about Heath, noticing too how disturbing it was. He took another step towards Heath to try to calm him.

"What's the matter?" he asked and with that Heath backed away from him more.

Without looking, he backed up too far. There was sound equipment behind him. Yet as the man reached out and tried to warn him, Heath backed up faster. The sound panel tipped over with a smash shooting sparks everywhere. Suddenly an orange glow came on the screen as a part of the set caught fire. It was just a little flame but it sent to crew buzzing with panic. All but Heath, who was on the ground about five feet away, laughing. He held his stomach as he cackled the most sinister, deathly laugh. He couldn't catch his breath he was in such hysterics with humor.

What I had started to build after Heath's death was torn down that moment. I called out to him, even touched the fuzzy screen with my hand.

"Heath!" I sobbed as the video cut to static.

"Heath!" I cried out yet again, determined to help him. I pressed my forehead against the glass as well. My tears fell on the screen. I was blocked off. He wasn't there. I couldn't get to him. He was in pain. He was haunted. And I couldn't get to him!

The blaring static was too much for my eyes. It was too hard to fight the television for a man that wasn't inside there. I dropped my hands to floor and cried there helpless, all alone.

That held true until I looked up and noticed my father standing with an emotionless expression by the door, watching me. I hadn't noticed till then and his presence sent a shock through me. I looked up with teary eyes to him. This image was once the one I called out to for comfort. Now it was one I suddenly loathed.

"How could you!" I sobbed

"Liza," he began with that calm, strong voice that I could never understand.

"How could you?" I screamed as I started to stand. I was piecing it all together That night when I asked him about the case, how he so smartly changed the subject, reducing me to tears. And yet I felt a sense of pride as I realized how right I was all along.

"You lied to me! You made me feel crazy!" I felt embarrassed still, remembering that night "But I knew." I continued.

"I was right to lie. Look at yourself now." he said coldly.

He sent ice prickles all over me. How could he be so harsh to his own daughter? Still, even in my grief, I kept vainly hoping. There had to be an explanation. I was desperate.

"Tell me you were on the right side of that 'disagreement' today." I said in between sobs "Tell me you tried to help him!"

There was silence on his end as I continued to cry, and his betrayal became clear as my pain grew overwhelming. I was shaking all over. The room wouldn't stop moving beneath me. My voice was quivering under tears.

"The insurance company wouldn't cover it and Mr. Ledger refused to pay. It is my job to get the company the money they deserve."

Could he really mean what he said? This coming from the man who held me when Heath died, who came home from work to make sure I was okay. Did he really not care about my tears like he made me believe? Was his comfort and understanding before all a façade?

"Your job?" I yelled. "God! It was an accident! He was sick! And now," the words stuck on my tongue like peanut butter "now, he's dead."

"He was crazy, Liza. I'm sorry." Though he showed no sympathy. "And dead or not, they still need money to replace what was broken."

"He was not crazy." I spat with my teeth clenched.

"He was" He said in a matter of fact way.

He made my skin crawl with a burning anger. Every word was like another punch. My body at this point felt like it had been through a war.

"You should be thanking me. Have you seen this on the news? This could have made every headline!" he pointed out arrogantly. He really expected me to bow down to what he had done. Why couldn't he see the torture in my eyes?

"But his family!" I shrieked in between tears. "Haven't they been through enough?" I started to feel nauseous in my pitiful state of hell. My brain was buzzing with the image of Heath. No matter how loud I screamed, my father's face remained smug, content, blank. He was relaxed. I was hysterical.

"I don't think you appreciate how confidential this has been." he shook his head

"What about me?" I choked out. Didn't he care about how this would affect me?

He was silent with no answer. This wasn't my father.

"Oh you bastard!" I cursed. Pushing past him, I ran out of the room and into mine.

I was caught in a disarray of thoughts. I didn't know where I was. Heath's laugh echoed in my mind with my father's unconcerned face every where I looked. Lost and sick I fell to my knees in my room, still weeping uncontrollably. I gasped for air in between sobs but it didn't come. My stomach churned with the overwhelming tears. My hand flew to my mouth for fear I would puke. I looked for an escape from this torment. There was happiness on this earth but I couldn't seem to locate it. I couldn't remember anything.

I tried to stand but fell back to my weak knees. Then again, I tried this time able to walk. My hatred for the world was unbearable with the grief. What did I do to deserve this? What did Heath do to deserve this? Angrily I knocked everything off my dresser with a smash. It felt good for a moment but then the sorrow came back in to attack. There had to be an escape. There had to be a haven. I suddenly knew of only one place. Holding my stomach and hoping not to be sick, I stumbled over to the crashed things on my floor. I picked through it and found my keys to the house and to the beach house. I grabbed everything of importance to me and through it in my backpack. There had to be an escape. I had to get away.

Mom was up now to see what was going on, so I stalled. I could hear her and dad talking outside my door, but it sounded miles away.

Losing energy, I crashed on my floor to wait. I sat on the same carpet I had had for years, in the same room I'd slept in every night, behind the same door I slammed so many times, to block out the same two upset parents. But everything was foreign. I was misplaced.

Sitting there with my packed bag, I listened for my parents to go back to bed, to go on with their lives and forget about the daughter they gave up on. It took longer than I thought. I didn't have the strength to stay sitting upright. Falling against the carpet, I sobbed like a newborn. Again my stomach revolted, but I continued to cry. I wept for over an hour there on my floor, alone.

After an hour of nothing but the sound of my tears I felt it safe to fly. I took every ounce of strength I possessed to pull my self out of the ground but I did. Then with nothing but a kiss to my love, I found another miraculous source of energy. And with it, I ran.


	8. Once Upon A Time

Not many people know this, but there was a time when I was shy. What is even more surprising is that I was also obedient.

It wasn't something that happened over night. Nothing is. I'm not sure when it started, when it finished, or if it even has. However the first time I noticed it happening was in sixth grade when I first saw the movie 10 Things I Hate About You.

It had not been a very good day. I remember it well. We were at the beach house for the weekend that April. It would be another year or so before I ever competed in surfing, but I had surfed for fun since I was 7. So just like any other time, I had spent my days out on the waves. I was sitting in the driveway waxing my surfboard when mom called me in for dinner. I would never leave it carelessly on the ground. I instead gently leaned it against the side of the house and ran in to eat.

Just down the road was a locally owned ice cream shop that we used to always go to. So after dinner we got in the car to go there. When dad opened the garage door however, it was enough to shake my surfboard over. It fell in the deadly path of our oncoming car, but no one noticed since it was almost dusk. The car split my board in half with a crack.

I flew out of the car and on the ground to mourn my precious board. All of our days in sun were splintering across the drive way in pieces. Dad apologized and said he didn't see it as I cried in his arms. He said sorry, but it was my fault for "leaving it there". Mom sent me to my room despite my father's arguments against it. I, however, didn't say a word. I simply went to my room and cried.

After some good crying, I finally turned on my TV for some entertainment for the night. To this day I still thank VH1 for that fateful showing of 10 Things I Hate About You. There was something about the way Heath smiled that captured me. I forgot all about my surfboard and the lost ice cream. Those two hours were two of the happiest of my life, I felt.

Whenever I got the chance I watched his movies. Each one was a new view, bringing excitement. Until then my life had been school, surfing, and impressing my parents. Heath gave me a whole new prospective. He was fearless and full of life. He gave me freedom from the dreary and limited life I lead and encouragement to try new things.

He came into my life at the right time. Adolescence is filled with changes you wouldn't imagine. I went to Junior High that next year and met new people, like Shannon and Frenchie. That could have also helped this huge change in myself. But I guess you could also hold Heath partially responsible for my sassiness or disrespect. Whatever you want to call it. I guess he was exactly as my mom accused him. But it all depends on how you saw it. Finally I got the courage to speak and stand up to my mom. I started to open up to more people and make new friends. For the first time ever, I got the nerve to put my years of surfing experience to use in a competition.

Competition surfing changed everything. Surfing was just a hobby until the opposition gave it some focus. I live for it in the summer. The thrill of sharing my love of the sport with others who love it as much is so wonderful!

If Heath Ledger hadn't found his way into my life, mom would still love me. I'd be as perfect as Vanessa. School might even be important to me. But I wouldn't change it for the world. I may not be what my parents had hoped for in a child, but I am what I want to be. Heath gave me the courage to try it out and now there is no going back. With, or without Heath.

The same held true for my location that cool clear night in early February. I had walked for at least two hours, maybe more, until I hit the highway. Already my breath was heavy and my stomach still uneasy. My face was still wet and the cool wind hit it as the cars flew by me without a care. The road stretched on forever, but I didn't care. At that point there was no future. I had time.

Then one car went by me much slower than the rest. Up the road it pulled to the side. My heart picked up, dreading what may come of this. I hoped they were pulling over for different reasons, that they didn't even notice me. As I came up to the car I tilted my head down towards my feet and quicken my pace. Just then the window rolled down and voice spoke to me.

"Young lady," a woman's voice addressed, scaring me. "Where are you going?"

It was hard to see her in the dark, but I instinctively wiped my tears.

"Santa Monica beach." I tried to say as normal as possible, but it came out with a croak.

She thought for a moment.

"It's not safe for you to be out here at night, its hard to see you." she stated.

I didn't reply. I didn't know what to say. Should I have apologized? Should I tell her I didn't care? I didn't know her.

"I'm going to the area of Topanga. Now, I haven't been here in many years, but I think its about 15 minutes past where you're going. It may be safer if I gave you a ride." she said as she opened the door to the passenger side. The light in the car clicked on and it showed a nicely dressed woman in her late fifties, early sixties. Her eyes looked tired behind her well put on make up. Her red, fading hair was nicely curled and the car was generally clean. This was something I was told never to do. But there comes a point in everyone's life, I think, when you just don't care.

I wiped my eyes some more to try to hide how distraught I was. I cleared my throat and adjusted my backpack.

"It would be quicker" I said, giving in. Then I carefully crept into the car and took my seat next to the woman. Closing the door, I buckled up as she started to drive.

"I won't ask you questions," she began in a very formal but caring voice, sensing how scared I was. "we'll be in Santa Monica in about twenty minutes and I'll drop you where you please. Alright dear?"

I nodded uncomfortably. I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't be where I was and I shouldn't be going where I was going. But there was no going back.

After about 10 minutes I started to feel more at ease about riding with a stranger, though I still felt sick from before. The lady had been truly kind to me. I knew she promised not to ask questions, and that I should have done the same. But I felt like I had to do something kind in return.

There was a picture on the dashboard of a smiling young woman outside of a house. Picking it up I asked, "Is that your daughter?"

The lady looked over and smiled.

"Yes."

The young woman's face beamed and her bright red curls sparkled.

"She is very beautiful." I admired.

"Yes," the lady said softly "Yes she is."

There was a bit of pain in her loving expression that I was all to familiar with. I looked into her eyes and saw some water building up. I was stricken with concern.

"Is she alright?" I inquired though I knew I shouldn't have.

The lady bit her lip and looked straight forward at the road. Her chin quivered a little, but she fought it back.

"I hope so." she finally choked out.

I gently set the picture back in its original place and with it a whole new meaning. I was full of guilt for bringing her such sorrow. I had asked the wrong question, started the wrong subject. What I did was in no way kind and did not help my debt to her. Silently a tear fell on my cheek for no reason beyond, perhaps, pity. Whether it was for the worried lady or for my broken self, I'm still not sure.

By the time I got to the house it was around 4 am. I was tired, no doubt, but too scared to sleep. So I went to my room on the second story and sat on the floor like I had almost 3 years ago. Taking 10 Things I Hate About You out of my bag, I put it in and hit play. I folded up my knees and watched with anticipation like it was the first time. I was scared and truly alone. But there was a sense of hope in Heath's smile.

I was happy and I temporarily forgot about the haunting video. I forgot about how my father betrayed me. I forgot about Heath's death and all the questions that I couldn't answer. But 10 Things I Hate About You really isn't a long movie. It ended much too soon. When the credits rolled, so did the tears. I melted into a puddle yet again, lying on my carpet with tears seeping into the floor. I bawled in anguish for some time. The cute, healthy, happy, Heath turned into a laughing, twisted, sick Heath. He was dead. And so I cried.

Soaked with tears, I forced my body out of my room and into the hall. The second floor was like a loft so that you could see down in to the living room and out the grand windows that showed the beach and ocean. The sun was rising then with busts of pink melting into the dark night.

Still morning, it was probably only in the mid fifties. Pretty chilly and ridiculous to swim in. And yet I changed into my bikini top and trunks, grabbed my board, and stood in the icy water. The sky truly was marvelous. The waves crashed against my ankles. I craved that feeling. I was in my haven but my heart still ached. My hands still shook. My stomach still squeezed. Heath was still dead. I wanted to drown out my thoughts. So I did. I waded out waste deep. I felt the soft squishy sand fill in the space between my toes. Seaweed and shells brushed against my legs. The water was prickly with coldness, but it helped me feel that first second of shock. That's what I wanted. So taking a deep breath, I slipped under the waves and let it take over my body.

I jumped back up through the water for a gasp of air. The coldness sent shivers and tingles across my body. But I felt more awake then ever. Then, I paddled out across the waves to do what I did best.

I had to have surfed for at least an hour. Paddling, standing, moving with the wave. It was like home. Though it was pretty pathetic how many times I crashed. My body was just too frail at that point to really give it's all. Soon it couldn't take much more, and I let a wave carry me to shore like a toddler to it's crib.

I laid my board across the sand and then my heavy body on it. I shook like crazy. I was so cold that it hurt to breathe. I pulled my arms up under my chest to try to keep them warm. There I laid looking out on my ocean to the rising sun. All I could hear was the waves repeatedly crashing, a bird squawking, and my teeth chattering. Honestly, I took comfort in the sound of the waves. That was one thing that could never change.

Staring out across the empty ocean I thought of Heath. There was an emptiness inside that could not be fixed. Would I ever feel the same again? Would I ever shake off what I saw on that video? It was frightening and confusing to see him suffer so much. But I honestly felt he was not crazy. He looked tired and sick. Perhaps it was just an anxiety attack? I didn't care what it was. He was still Heath. And he was still dead. Thinking of it all again I cried more. It added to my continues shaking. I grasped the edges of my smooth board wishing it would take me away. My feet hung off the edge and I dug them in the sand. I was alone. Where would I go from here? Home? Could I ever stand to forgive my father?

Just then I realized that at that point they would know I was gone. I should have gotten up for school a while ago. It was only a matter of time before reality would show up in my paradise. I was scared to face what my parents would say. I was bound to be grounded from everything for the rest of my life. Not to mention hours of lectures. The thought just made me cry even more.

Suddenly a car door slamming woke me up from the nightmare. I instinctively pushed myself up to see who it was. The person was still around the other side of the house, so it was impossible to tell. But I wiped my eyes and sat up straight, turning my back on them instead of jumping up to run away or going to greet them. This is where I belonged.

Soon I heard squishing in the sand behind me as the person came closer. The person came up around me, by my side and stood. I slowly looked up and there stood a very troubled Frenchie.

I looked up at him with the teary eyes I could not hide. He stood there not sure of what to do or say in an instance of perfect silence. Then, he dropped his keys in the sand and took a seat on the board next to me. I was thankful that he didn't speak. It was silent as the two of us stared out at the golden sky.

I continued to shake and sniffle in this this time of peace. It was yet another occasion that Frenchie wouldn't know what to say; wouldn't know what to do to comfort someone in pain. I didn't mind. I didn't expect him to. But after a while he shifted a little and glanced at me. Then he uncertainly wrapped his arm closest to me around my icy back and pulled me closer. It caught me by surprise, but it was so nice to feel the warmth of someone who cared. Literally and figuratively. He warmed my skin. And for once I was not alone. Accepting his comfort I leaned in on him and rested my head on his shoulder. It felt really good. That moment was the only honest bliss I could remember experiencing.


	9. The Fix

Back in Frenchie's car we both shyly exchanged stories. His about discovering I was missing. Living a couple blocks from me, he had to drive by my house to get to school. I would ride with him everyday, but he usually didn't leave his house until I was already in homeroom. More time had passed than I thought. When he drove by my street and saw a cop outside of my house, it was eight o'clock. It made me rethink just how much time I had spent there shivering on my surfboard.

Lighthearted as always, Frenchie narrated how he pulled in to make sure everything was alright and overheard my mom tell the police officer how I had run away. "I couldn't imagine you running any other place" he said explaining his instinct to go straight to the beach house.

It was almost nine by then and we were both missing school. It was of no matter to Frenchie, of course, but he could still have gotten in serious trouble for skipping. I blushed slightly at his kindness.

"I'm glad you're the one that came" I said meaningfully. "Anyone else would have bitched me out."

He just smiled to himself.

There was silence and I knew it was my turn. Frenchie wasn't asking why I ran and I could tell he didn't know. It was polite, but I felt he should have some understanding. So I took a deep breath and, for the first time since I overheard my dad say Heath's name that night, I told my story.

I cried. Cried? No, I bawled. It was embarrassing because I knew that Frenchie would not understand exactly how I felt. But he was silent and listened intently. My heart was opened up in the car and it's a side of me that not everyone sees. And for good reason. Understanding yourself that deeply is hard enough. Expecting someone else to do the same is almost impossible.

"Wow" was all he said. Not mockingly, just expressing he was a tad overwhelmed.

"It's okay that you don't get why it's so important to me," I sniffed a little and swallowed some more tears "But I respect Heath Ledger a lot. You can think it's ridiculous. Maybe your right. But I can't help it at this point."

He didn't say anything in response, but continued to think over my words. I too thought them over and felt there was something more to be said.

"And… I'm really sorry Frenchie." I meant it whole heartedly. I didn't know how to explain how I felt other than that I was just incredibly sorry .

He nodded and continued to stare straight ahead, trying to shake it off. It was unreal to be in that moment. The whole situation was like a dream, pr rather a nightmare. And Frenchie so serious…

For a long time neither of us said anything. I wiped my eyes. They burned from all they had been through that night. Frenchie's face was still contorted in a scowl, thinking it over.

"So, was he crazy? Frenchie asked, curiously.

I looked out the window and up to the blue sky, thinking of Heath. The first image that came to my mind was him laughing and it made my decision easy.

"Not to me." I replied.

The ride home was so much shorter than I had anticipated. Sooner than I would have liked, we arrived in front of the menacing household. Looking at it from his car I took a deep breath and sighed with apprehension.

"Good luck" he said, almost amused, leaning back against the window.

"Thanks" I said sarcastically back to him. Then more silence for a moment when I wanted remain there in the car. "Thank you, I mean" I said searching for words "For everything."

He grinned his goofy grin.

"No problem"

Leaning across the seats, I reached my arms around him. I hugged him tight and appreciated him then more than before. Then I opened the door and walked, yet again, the walk of death.

I stood at my door for almost a minute with soggy eyes of distress as Frenchie flew down the street. Finding some unknown courage, I finally knocked. I heard steps coming and thought to run but my feet were like lead. So there I stood, a sitting duck in the line of fire. Nothing to do to defend myself. To whomever was to open the door, I was at their mercy.

My mother got there first. A phone in her hand and a face so red and distraught, it shocked me. For a moment I waited for the flames as we stared at one another. Her hand started to shake so violently the phone slipped out and dropped on the floor between us. And over top of it, her arms grabbed me in an embrace I never thought I would feel from my mother.

"Thank god," she wept "Your safe!"

I bawled too, hearing those words. It's one of the most tragic things that has happened in my short 15 years of life. Yet something made me want to hit pause right there. Love, I thought. My mother loved me.

The sky was florescent pink. And the ocean was louder than normal. Shannon and I sat at the dock discussing my new boyfriend, General McClellan. Apparently Shannon had set us up and I was happy. But then, she asked what Heath would think. I had forgotten about Heath. How could I forget? This was a disaster, truly a disaster.

Just then as I stood up to leave, I turned around and there he was. Heath in the living flesh! My body grew warm and butterflies; attacked with such flutters I couldn't help but smile. But then they brought anxiousness as well. What was he doing here?

"Liza," he said my name with his beautiful Austrailian accent. "How could you do this to me?"

"Do what?" I asked oblivious.

"Date General McClellan. I thought you loved me."

"I do!" I shouted. How could I not?

"Then why-"

"You were dead!"

"Do I look dead now? Hmm? I thought you would wait for me."

I was starting to get scared. The look in his eyes. His words- they weren't things he would say.

"I'm sorry" I apologized vainly.

"Oh" he smiled in such a malicious way. "No need to be sorry."

"What?" I asked, bewildered looking up at his gorgeous face with frightened eyes.

"You look scared…" he said with such pleasure I backed up a step. I couldn't believe it. Heath was in my grasps and I was backing up.

"Why so serious?" he asked innocently.

My heart beat through my chest. Where was Shannon? I had to go. This wasn't Heath. He wasn't acting like him. He was someone else. I had to get out of there, I had to-

Turning around Shannon stood with the same evil smile that was imprinted on Heath's face. She knew. She planned this!

I turned back to Heath and he grabbed my cheeks. His touch burned with the desire I always had for him to touch me so, but also with the evil in his grasp. He took a knife from his back pocket and lightly traced my lips sending shivers of distress throughout my body. The Dark Knight trailer. Oh my gosh this was it. He was going to what the Joker did in the trailer.

"Why so serious?" he asked more deviously this time, exactly like the clip I had seen.

I screamed.

And just then he left me alone again. The sounds of the ocean were obliterated by my scream piercing silence. The pink sky was matched with the darkness of my room. Heath's hands were replaced by my own, pushing hair away and wiping my sweaty face.

I panted heavily and shifted in my bed just to make sure I was really where I thought I was. Home. I was safe.

I checked the glowing clock by my bed. It was 11 p.m. I had been asleep for fourteen hours. It was crazy. My body still felt very much apart of the bed. But my stomach had a mind of its own. With a hungry growl I knew I needed to be up. I shook my head and tried to breathe. It was only a dream.

And thank god! _General McClellan?_ The doofus Civil War general? Really?

I walked to the kitchen with the stumble of sleepiness; rubbing my eyes, yawning, and squinting in the bright light. Hazily I grabbed the goldfish box and sat down at the counter. I was shoveling them in by the hand full when mom walked into the room.

Instinctively I put up my guard. For a fleeting moment I even thought she was coming to take back what she said. But she quietly poured some tea and took a seat next to me. I'm not going to lie. It was odd.

There was a moment of silence as she sighed and pulled back some of her dark hair from her tired face. She stared into her tea with a look of 'where to begin?'.

"My mother was spontaneous and brave. A free spirit." she began telling a story I didn't quite comprehend the purpose of. It was rather random, I thought, as she continued. "One time, when I was about 8, she took me to Hollywood without any planning or maps. Just her memory of the last time she went there- 5 years prior"

I crunched my goldfish slower, listening attentively. She stared aimlessly into her cup.

"It wasn't too uncommon for her to just take off somewhere. She was fearless…" her voice trailed off. "But one time she left and didn't come back."

Mom took a sip of her tea and swallowed hard. I stopped chewing and kept a fixed glance on her.

Oh god, I thought. What had I done?

"I was only 11 at the time. From then on, I grew up with my father telling me that I would be as reckless as her someday. That I would hurt anyone who loved me." A tear strolled down her cheek though she continued to talk seriously, and strong. "But I understood. He loved her more than anything and she left him without a care in the world."

Then she turned to me and put her hand on mine, reminding me it was there. My lip started to tremble under her broken expression. I never knew about any of this, or my grandparents at all. Only that my grandfather had died before I was born.

"Liza," she addressed "I know what I say and do isn't always caring. But no matter what happens, you have to promise me that you'll never run away again. Okay?" she asked fiercely. Suddenly, I understood so many things and I wept for my suffering mother. I shook my head as tears streamed out. Both of us crying now, she wrapped me in her arms. Twice in one night.

The nightmares continued for a few nights. It was soon hard to tell fantasy and fear from the truth. So eventually I had to find out for myself. I had to see what I avoided so much at the time of his death. Therefore, for the first time I could think of, I went to find some answers.

What I found was about half comforting, half disturbing. On news casts on Youtube, they said he was super fidgety, anxious, sick, and sleepless. Some people called his death a mystery; some called it punishment for drugs or his role in Brokeback Mountain. Some articles miswrote of how he killed himself. It angered and scared me to the bone. How could people put such things out there? It hurt that they actually believed it. But what hurt the most was when they got me to believe it too, even for the slightest second. It was shocking.

On the contrary, there were so many people out there who loved him. I found pictures of his precious daughter Matilda and interviews before he died where his laughter just melted my soul. Celebrities spoke kind words for him and I didn't feel so alone.

After a couple hours doing this, I just sat there and smiled at a Heath poster on my wall. No matter what I read, I was still in love. It seemed no matter how bad people made his final moments on Earth seem, his goodness still overruled. This picture of him grinning reminded me of the Heath that always brought such happiness. He always seemed to be the fix for everything. He even helped me deal with his own death. I knew then, that just that grin alone would help me overcome _anything._


	10. Eulogy: Seven Months

July19, 2008

6 a.m.

In complete darkness, a foreigner would stub their naked tow down these wooden stairs. It's ragged wood from years of mother nature's wrath. However, my feet glide along carelessly, for it's a path they've traveled many times. They reach the relief of the sand and sink deep with each step. The waves echo for miles and the air is filled with it's spray. It's summer now, no longer chilly along the ocean. Things have warmed. Yet I wrap my arms around my slender body. For comfort, if anything.

179 Days. 

Three days shy of seven months. _Seven months_. And still I feel that ache as if it were last week. 179 days and not one of them did he not occupy my thoughts. "Will this pain ever go away?" I once asked. I know now I have only gotten used to it. I know now the answer is "No." Time has passed, yes, but I cry as if it is still January. His absence is still always there in my heart. Especially on this eventful weekend.

I kneel into the waves, my cradle, and they carry away my tears. The same waves, the same ocean, that comforted me before. How many tears has the ocean acquired? For I realize now that the waves crashed long before I came and will continue to with or without me. 

Shannon called me last night. I sat and watched the phone ring by my bed, frozen with nervousness, unable to answer. This was the weekend The Dark Knight hit theaters and I was conveniently away at the beach. Shannon had gone to see it for me.

"It was marvelous" she said on a voicemail with excitement in her voice. "I just got out of the theater and I'm awestruck, Liza. Completely shocked, impressed… and scared." There was some muffling on her end and I could hear people around her. "He did his job" she began again "He brought the Joker to life like never before. You should be so proud…" Her voice trailed off and there was so more muffling. 

Frenchie's goofy voice came on in replace of Shannon's. "Why tho theriouth? Why tho theriouth? Why tho theriouth?" he said, excitedly mocking the Joker by adding a lisp to his legendary phrase. He always made me smile. At this point, I truly considered him my best friend. Shannon laughed in the background and I too laughed in between tears. There was more muffling as Shannon took back the phone.

"Okay, I have to go. Everyone's just buzzing here. Have fun at the beach!"

They clicked off and I wipe my eyes, then listened to it again. It was chilling, thinking about the world as a whole, going to the theaters this weekend. All of them were experiencing the same thing Shannon was. All of them were finally opening their eyes to what I've been seeing all along. Yet, none of them knew.

The sun is starting to rise over my ocean, painting the water gold and the sky orange and pink. Water, shells, sand, and seaweed welcome my feet. I take a deep, shaky breath as a tear glides down my cheek. The smell of the ocean enters my body and its comforting. Just the sight is home. I continue to look out into it's blue emptiness. I know how it feels.

Seven months, I think. Seven months.

All things heal with time. It's just how much time that bewilders me. Dad never apologized, never showed any sign of regret. But a month after that fateful night he said his first meaningful words to me. "It is done", he said. I assumed he meant the case and did not ask questions. I think he won, but to this day I do not know for sure. Still a sense of relief came over me knowing that Heath's family could finally relax and Heath himself could rest with ease. 

Conversation between my father and I was curt and pithy. The relationship between my mom and I was not perfect, but the best it had been in years. And I had grown to love and appreciate Vanessa as not just my sister, but my friend. Heath's death had such a strange effect on my life. It's like, you know someone your whole life and you think you have them characterized pretty well. Then your world falls to pieces and they're a complete stranger. It's scary how death shines a light on aspects of people you never before realized existed. Then the toughest part: learning to live with this knowledge. Is it good or bad? Will you ever forget that trait? Do you want to? Do _I_? Life might be easier the way it was. But the fact is, you can't go back. So you must go forward.

I could focus on how heartless my father was and hate him. I could think of my mom as the bitch she can be and not try to understand why. I could block Vanessa out of my life for good. I could think Heath was crazy. But what a pointless life that would be, drowning in my sorrow! The waves will still crash, so why waste good surfing time? Life goes on. Seven months have proved that

The impact Heath's death had on me almost equals his life. Just before he died, Heath had an ironic statement saying that he was okay with death because he knew he would live on through his daughter. I've seen pictures of the little angel and he's right. But what he didn't bargain for, Heath, my love, was how he would live on through his adoring fans. He's alive in my heart, always. Like now as I watch the sun rise on a new day. He's alive in the minds of thousands who sit on the edge of their seats watching The Dark Knight. His life was truly a blessing and it continues even now, seven months later. He changed my life for good. I could not go back even if I wanted to. For what he has given me is so profound that it cannot be erased by something even as grave, and _serious, as death itself._


End file.
